A single drop of blood
by spearsister
Summary: Losing Hermione drives Severus to a desperate act. One shot.


Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Severus or Hermione they belong to J.K. Rowling nor do I own the song "behind blue eyes"  
  
A/N This was inspired while listening to The Who. I know I should be working on Of Love and Hate... But my new job is killing me. I'm almost done with a really long chapter and hope to post it as soon as possible. I promise.  
  
The single drop of blood shimmered like a liquid ruby, rich and opulent. It slowly grew larger swelling like a teardrop feeding on fear and despair, the sweet sound of Roger Daltry swelling in unison with the dripping blood. Faster and faster the blood flowed, becoming a garnet waterfall glistening in an otherwise dark room. Outside the rain fell in a moonless sky as if the world wept with the dying, bleeding man.  
  
No one knows what it's like  
  
To be the bad man  
  
To be the sad man  
  
Behind blue eyes  
  
Severus Snape watched the blood drip from his arms, the veins in his wrist laid open and the deep gouge that was once the dark mark. He had always wondered if he could cut the cursed piece of flesh from his body, and until today he had never been willing to try. The pain swelled over him as he used the knife yet again on his mutilated arms. Pain is relative; the pain of his bleeding arms was weak in comparison to the wracking pain of his soul. Lifting the restorative potion to his mouth yet again he drank, and with fascination he watched the blood slow and the veins begin to heal. Fingering his knife he once again began to cut.  
  
No one knows what it's like  
  
To be hated  
  
To be fated  
  
To telling only lies The first time they had made love she had gently traced the scars that decorated his body, traced them with her graceful fingertips. Why, she had asked him, why, would you do this to your self? He had looked into her youthful eyes and searched for the words that could make her see that sometimes the bloody aching pain of an open cut masks the never-ending pain, and rage and hate. Yes the hate, an emotion that eats at you like a living thing.  
  
But my dreams  
  
They aren't as empty  
  
As my conscience seems to be  
  
It was endearing to watch her try to understand his words, studying them like a fascinating lesson. This lesson, however, is one that must be learned hands on, with your own blood and flesh to testify to how deep the lesson has dug into your screaming writhing soul. Hate feeds on everything, convincing its foolish host that it will merely remain long enough to satisfy the need for revenge, instead it grows, quietly ever larger until it becomes the only thing you can see or hear or taste. It grows until it magnifies its minions, pain, fear, isolation, and anger. Each of them fuel it raging hunger until it becomes who you are. That's when it starts the realization that a little physical pain detaches you from the hate feeding on your soul and gives you a crimson tinted clarity; for a time.  
  
I have hours, only lonely  
  
My love is vengeance  
  
That' s never free Drip, drip, the rubies of his life blood fall onto the blood stained floor. The crimson clarity grows faint and mind goes back to her, always her. Those soft brown eyes and rich heavy hair, a laugh that chased away that cold and kisses that filled that emptiness. Those hands that made his body feel things that amazed him, filling him with wonder and that amazing body, rich with secrets that she shared so freely.  
  
No one knows what it's like  
  
To feel these feelings  
  
Like I do  
  
And I blame you  
  
Hermione, the name tasted good on his parched lips. A war raged through him, tearing at him, screaming for attention. Was it to be revenge or death, part of him wanted to find the man who took his love from this world and make him pay, but another voice the one that sounded most like her whispered, to him. What good would it do? It asked. It was meant to be. He could still see her serious face, when they last spoke. My love, she had said ; I will always be your but Harry needs me, I won't let him die! No one bites back as hard  
  
On their anger  
  
None of my pain and woe  
  
Can show through But my dreams  
  
They aren't as empty  
  
As my conscience seems to be I have hours, only lonely  
  
My love is vengeance  
  
That's never free How he had begged her to stay behind where she would be safe but to no avail, It was over so quickly, long before he could say goodbye. The-boy- who- had- lived, yet again ,placed her broken body in his arms and had cried. A hero she was being called. Those words meant nothing to him, all he felt was the terrible overwhelming hatred well over him and reclaim his soul. He missed her and yet he knew that she would not want him to finish this bloody atonement in her name. If she knew how badly he wanted to make Potter bleed for her loss, how he wanted to crush the breath in his lungs, with his bare hands.  
  
When my fist clenches, crack it open  
  
Before I use it and lose my cool  
  
When I smile, tell me some bad news  
  
Before I laugh and act like a fool If I swallow anything evil  
  
Put your finger down my throat  
  
If I shiver, please give me a blanket  
  
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat No one knows what it's like  
  
To be the bad man  
  
To be the sad man  
  
Behind blue eyes  
  
Severus knew that she would never forgive him if he hurt Harry, and he knew he could not go on without her, with a vicious swing of his arm he sent the life saving potion it to the stone wall. Listening to the rich voice of her favorite muggle music end he began to slash angrily at his already torn flesh. Severus, Severus, a voice called to him, looking up he saw those incredible brown eyes. "My love" he croaked as he rushed to her arms.  
  
"Look" she said pointing down to his body "are you ready to come home?"  
  
"Oh yes my love" he murmured as he followed her into a rich silver fog.  
  
The next day the Potions Masters body in a pool of his own blood, his wrist slashed to ribbons an uncharacteristic smile on his face. Next to him lay one perfect ruby, the rich color of fresh spilled blood and the words "True Love Endures" floated, written in a silver fog. Words that to this very day testify of the love between a man and a woman. 


End file.
